She pressed a hand between us and strummed her clit, her fingers slipping down to where I was pumping into her, and I had to grit my teeth against the urge to come. But then she was looking back at me, lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes glazed and filled with something more than desire. Those eyes fluttered closed as she tightened impossibly around me and then burst, her pussy squeezing my dick as she found her second release.
“There you go, kitten. You come for me so fucking well. The next time you get it in your pretty little head that we shouldn’t do this, I want you to remember just how hard you came all over my cock.”
Her soft little whimper paired with the flutter of her pussy around me sent me over the edge. Unable to hold back any longer, I settled deep and spilled myself inside her, losing two weeks of frustration in her perfect body.
With my forehead pressed to her shoulder, I matched my panting breaths to hers, all the while wondering if I could make this fake marriage last longer than the six weeks we had left. Because fuck knew I wasn’t ready to be done with this. Wasn’t anywhere near done with her.
CHAPTERTWENTY
QUINN
A week later,I sat on the small set of bleachers at the ballpark where Ford and Aiden ran little league practice, along with a smattering of parents and a few nosy onlookers. My attendance here had been another of Addison’ssuggestions. And by that, I obviously meant demands. The girl had made it her personal mission to make sure Ford and I were seen everywhere together, all the while acting like a couple in love.
After last week’s…incident, I wasn’t sure we needed to worry about it. Ford and I had, in fact, been the talk of the town, just like Addison wanted. And Mabel hadn’t hidden her smugness over the fact that we’d used her Pleasure Palace to sneak off and have some fun. She wasn’t even upset Aiden hadn’t used it as she’d hoped, so long as it had gotten used.
I’d never met a person—her age or otherwise—who was so invested in the health and enjoyment of people’s sex lives, but more power to her.
And there was no denying Ford’s and my sex life was healthy. That may have been the only part of our relationship that was, but I wasn’t going to complain. I was getting regular D for the first time in years, and I wasn’t mad about it. Especially when that D was attached to someone who knew exactly how to use it.
The two-hour little league practice was nearly up. I’d watched Ford—and Aiden, but let’s be real…my gaze mostly stayed locked on my husband—interact with the kids, being his usual carefree self. He was exactly as I’d expected him to be—kind, funny, goofing off with the children, and not taking anything too seriously.
What I didnotexpect was the softer side of him and just how good he was with the kids. Or how much it would make me want to melt.
In the dugout, he knelt in front of one of the kids. With blond pigtails braided over her shoulders, Cassidy was one of only three girls on the team. She’d just struck out—again—and though no tears streaked her face, I could tell it was taking everything in her not to shed them. Her bottom lip quivered, her eyes bright and glassy, and I wanted to wrap her up in a hug and tell her everything would be all right. That she didn’t have to be strong all the time, but as that was something I hadn’t yet mastered in my life, my advice would’ve fallen flat.
This was…just who I was. Who I’d conditioned myself to be after years of sly abuse at the hands of my parents. I’d always been the aloof one. The one people thought was snobby or stuck-up, but it’d been my barrier. And I’d perfected it in my thirty-one years, using it as a shield from those who didn’t think I could do something. Or worse, who actively tried to knock me down.
But it turned out Cassidy didn’t need a hug from me or false words I didn’t actually take to heart. Not when she had Ford.
I sat directly behind them, close enough to hear his words, though I wasn’t sure anyone else could.
“You know you did awesome, right?” he said.
“I didn’t do awesome. I struck out twice!”
“Striking out is all part of the game, Cass. Even the pros do it.”
“Not as much as me.” She folded her arms over her chest, brows drawn down and her bottom lip stuck out in a pout.
“You know they miss more balls than they hit, right?”
“They do?”
“Yep…they usually hit fewer than a third of what’s pitched to them. And they’re out there making millions every year. So we’re going to give ourselves a break for not playing as well as they do, all right?”
“Okay,” she said, though her voice was wobbly, and those tears she’d been trying so hard to hold back rolled in two fat drops down her red cheeks.
“Today was just one day in a whole lot of them. We all have off days. But the point is that you show up and try again. That you don’t give up if it’s something you love.” He reached up, swiping away her tears with his thumbs.
I wasn’t so sure I hadn’t turned into a puddle right there on these uncomfortable bleachers, because holy shit.Holy shit. What I wouldn’t have given to hear that kind of pep talk as a kid. Or, hell, as a teen or even an adult.
The people I’d surrounded myself with—my parents, especially—were more inclined to point out all my flaws. For as long as I could remember—the first time happened when I was six and fumbled a step in my dance recital—they’d focused on everything I’d done wrong.
They also liked to remind me exactly how my fuckup would affectthem. How their friends would view them if I didn’t get straight A’s, didn’t graduate as valedictorian, didn’t go to Harvard Med School. It didn’t matter what Ididaccomplish. That paled in comparison to their expectations.
Their words were never about lifting my spirits and encouraging me to do better. To try again. It was always about how disappointed they were. How I could’ve done better. How embarrassed they were to have me as a daughter.
So I’d resorted to giving those talks to myself. The problem was, my words weren’t always the kindest where I was involved. I had a lot of grace for my patients and for the few people I considered friends or even acquaintances.
